Regret
by morph
Summary: The TARDIS does some soulsearching. TARDIS POV. Set between 'Father's Day' and 'The Empty Child.' One Shot. Part of my TARDIS 100 series.


AN/ Part of my TARDIS 100 fic series. Set between "Father's Day" and "The Empty Child." The TARDIS does some soul-searching. Thanks to LilCosette and eevee who helped me edit it. One-Shot. Enjoy.

For Bindi, who saved this fic when my computer crashed.

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Spinning through the universe and through various threads of time can make my mind wonder. I go over my recent adventures with the Doctor…MY Doctor…and his latest companion Rose Tyler. Thinking about them…I can not help but wonder…

Do I regret leading them to the last Dalek?

Unlike the Doctor and Rose, I knew it was a Dalek's distress signal from the start. It was as easily recognisable to me as the sound of a rattlesnake's rattle would be to many humans. So why did I tell the Doctor that it was just an ordinary distress signal? Why did I send him and Rose into the snake pit?

I suppose it had something to do with the troubling dreams I know the Doctor had been having. Yes, he does sleep, though certainly not very often if he can help it, even for my standards. Part of the reason why he hates sleep is because he hates nightmares. Lately they had been filled with Dalek battle calls. Gigantic planet-shattering explosions. The sound of one thousand screaming voices suddenly going silent, Rose's voice among them.

I'm not a psychologist. I'm a time machine. But I'm a time machine with a life, heart and soul. I get into their minds and I feel their emotions. I could feel my Doctor's repressed anger, guilt and regret. He had forgotten many things, trauma had forced them from his memories. They were still there though, deep inside, slowly poisoning him. He needed a release, to face his demons.

I could also feel Rose's curiosity at the Doctor's past. She wanted to know more, but was afraid to ask. She could see the storm in his eyes whenever the Time War was brought up. I felt it was about time she learned more, one way or another. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Rose learned about the Daleks.

I helped them both. I threw them into the snake pit.

Did I know what was going to happen when they met the Dalek? No. I had my suspicions though. A Dalek would only ask for help if it was in dire need. I was able to conclude, or assume, that it was incapacitated and so would do little harm to the Doctor or Rose. That didn't mean I could foresee everything that would happen in that base.

Did I know that Van Stattan would capture my Doctor and subject him to terrible and painful examinations? No. Believe me, if I did, I would never have sent him there. I do regret that. If I had a spine, it would shiver to think what Van Stattan would have done if he had gotten inside me.

Did I know that Rose would accidentally free and mutate the Dalek? No, though I'm not sure whether or not I regret it. It provided the Dalek with an emotional learning curve as well. But then again…that was unnatural for a Dalek. It caused it…pain. Is that regrettable?

Did I know about Adam? No. A small part of me regrets allowing him on board though. He was ultimately more trouble then he was worth.

I'm rationalising. Does that mean I really do regret it? All of it?

Then there was the deaths of all those people, the soldiers hired by Van Statten. If I had ignored the distress signal, they probably would still be alive now. I regret that.

My mind shifts to another 'adventure', when Rose wanted to see her father's death. She had been plagued by dreams too, and these spurred her to ask the Doctor about the possibility of a visit to that miserable November day in 1987. He complied, couldn't say no. Once was fine, but evidently not enough. Going back twice meant that I had to cross the same time line. It was not something I had done for a long time, not since the Doctor's regeration. It felt a bit…odd. Not odd because I hadn't done it in a while, but more of a foreboding feeling. Perhaps I should have seen it coming.

I tell myself now, or at least try to, that it wasn't my fault that Rose caused the paradox. I can't help but feel that I could have prevented it though. I could have resisted crossing the time line. I could have chosen not to go to the same place, the same time twice.

Couldn't I?

I remember the exact moment the paradox happened. I felt lost, empty, terrified, and reminiscing about it chills me. I regretted it then. I know very well I did.

But do I regret it now?

These thoughts and many others like them are very upsetting. They revolve in my mind like a slow, relentless tornado. I don't know why I'm letting these thoughts upset me, but they are. I need to stop and work this out. I do so right in the middle of a galaxy. I park myself in time and space and refuse to budge.

It doesn't take long for the Doctor to figure out something is wrong. He and I have always had a strong connection. The fact that I've shut down other functions such was heat and water is also a dead give away. He tries to get me to move, but this has become one of those times when my stubbornness matches my age. He has no choice but to go down underneath my console and try to figure out what was wrong.

"Come on, old girl, what's the matter?" he mutters.

He uses the sonic screwdriver. I can feel its warmth and I admit it is somewhat therapeutic, but it is not enough to put my mind at rest. I begin to reminisce again. More unsavoury memories surface.

What about landing twelve months after we took Rose from her time rather than twelve hours? I know a lot about humans, especially ones who are not used to time travel. It would have been emotionally chaotic for Rose's family. Did I really mean to do that? Was it an accident born of a senile old time machine. Do I regret it? Should I regret it?

"What's this?" the Doctor asks. He has found something deep inside me. It is an acid; the product of a chemical reaction deep in my heart. Liquid guilt and regret. There is a considerable amount built up inside, literally dissolving me from the inside out. I do not know how I let it come to this. The Doctor is confused upon this discovery, but when he realises what it is and therefore what it means, I sense a certain softness in his soul.

"It's not your fault," he sighs quietly, tuning the sonic screwdriver to a little-used setting. He beings to run the beam over the acid, evaporating it. More comes to replace it. I am not satisfied. "Everything that went wrong, it isn't your fault. It's no one's fault."

My first reaction is to tell him that he is wrong. I almost hate to do it, but I place a picture of a Dalek in his mind. He knows what I am referring to and I sense his body and soul tense.

"The Dalek?" He thinks for a minute. "Well, you did lead us there, but you shouldn't beat yourself up over it, even if you did know what it was. Please. You're my ship, my home. The only home I have left. I can't lose you."

I sense his sadness. I can't lose him either. That would be…too much.

I inject another image into his mind; a Reaper.

"Yeah, I know," he sighs again. "That wasn't a fun time for anyone, including you. But that wasn't your fault either. It's water under the bridge now."

He's worried about me. That last remark was said in a light-hearted tone, but I can see the seriousness underneath. I know how much I mean to him. Does he know how much he, and now Rose, mean to me? I have never really wanted to hurt them, yet I have caused so much pain…

No, wait. _I_ didn't cause the pain. _I_ didn't force them to do anything that was causing my regret. I knew there was a Dalek when I sent them to Van Stattan's base but they faced it and came out alive. _I_ didn't personally kill any of the others or torture the Doctor. _I_ didn't tell Rose to save her father's life. I _did_ make Rose twelve months late, but that didn't cause the end of the world. It was merely a pothole in her life and the lives of those she left behind.

There is still some regret, but I realise now that brooding on it isn't helping anyone, especially myself.

Gradually the acid inside of me disappears and no more seeps out to replace it. I hum my engines in a happier tone, letting my Doctor know all is well again. I send a wave of mental thanks his way. He smiles.

"You're welcome. We're in this together. There's been enough regret already. Let's not focus on the past any more then is absolutely necessary, okay?"

I wholeheartedly agree.


End file.
